There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. ‘C’est ridicule. ‘To take a baby all the way to France without a wet-nurse. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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